Unwritten Apologies
by Azura.Sapphire
Summary: How the scene on Damon's porch from episode 3x04: Disturbing Behavior should have gone, had it been Elena who showed up instead of Katherine. Written in Damon's POV.


_**Unwritten Apologies**_

Damon Salvatore was not having a good day.

He'd killed his best friend, effectively isolating the only person who was on his side; got roughed up by Vampire Barbie for biting her jerk of a father who was- surprise!- immune to compulsion; was yelled at by the girl he loved and in the process yelled at her back in even worse ways; and, oh yeah, his baby brother was still running around with some godforsaken hybrid hell-bent on destroying… what? The world? Or Damon's sanity_?_

Because of that was what Klaus wanted, congratulations to him. He was doing a damn good job of it.

Yeah, Damon was having a very bad day. So whoever was at his door right now had better have a _hell_ of a good reason for showing up and interrupting his drink.

He sauntered over to open it, wondering who could possibly be on the other side. Everyone hated him right now, so he was genuinely stumped as to who it could be.

Well, whoever it was, they were human. He could tell from the telltale sound of the heartbeat. _Maybe it's someone I can eat_, he thought bitterly, not meaning it in the least… and hating the fact that he couldn't even fool himself anymore.

He swung the door open, and, lo and behold, it was Elena Gilbert.

Elena.

On his doorstep.

Dressed in her little green camisole with that black tee over it, in her little short shorts, and wearing an apologetic expression.

Once he got over his brief second of shock and- was that _relief_? Damn- he decided that, whatever she was here for, she was going to have to work for it. He wasn't the only one in the wrong here.

Ignoring the way the sight of her twisted in his gut like a knife, he crossed his arms and said seriously, "I will accept written apologies only."

She tilted her head a little to the side and gave him that _look_, the one that was as clear as if she had said his name in her exasperated tone of voice. "Can I come in?"

He shrugged one shoulder and half rolled his eyes. "Well, it _is_ your house."

Elena's exasperated look intensified as she swept past him into the hall, and he studiously ignored the way the skim of her arm against his made him feel. He turned around to face her, arms still crossed and sarcastic shield still up as he leaned against the wall. "What is it this time? You're interrupting my drink. Come to yell at me some more? Or- wait, don't tell me- someone else is dead. Whoever it is, this may come as a shock, but it wasn't me this time!"

He was expecting another exasperated look, or maybe even anger, since he was deliberately pushing her buttons. What he definitely _didn't_ expect to see was an unwavering, brown-eyed gaze that met his own.

"Are you done?" Elena asked calmly, and Damon just blinked at her, not quite sure what the correct response was in this situation. When he didn't immediately answer, she continued, "Good. Written or not, I did come here to apologize."

_Interesting. This should be good. _"Just what are you apologizing for, exactly?" he prodded, although of course he thought he knew the answer.

"You were right," she said seriously.

He smirked. "As I always am. Your point?"

"You were right," she repeated, stepping closer to him as she said it, "because I _have_ been acting like I'm trying to turn you into Stefan. You're a vampire, you're not perfect, and I have to get used to that. But most of all…" Another step. "You're _not_ Stefan. You never have been, and you never will be. And you know what? I'm okay with that, Damon."

Hold on. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

_Don't go there, Salvatore._

Because if he let himself think too hard about her words for even a second, the price of doing so- the _hope_ he knew it would give him- was not something he could afford. Hope led to heartbreak. He'd learned that by now.

But damnit if he couldn't keep himself from hoping just a little bit anywhere.

As was always the case with Damon Salvatore, when the emotions and feelings and _longing_ that he didn't want to address started to come back up, so did the familiar walls of sarcasm- in full force. It was easier that way.

"So what are you saying, Elena? You sure you don't like the idea of me being the brooding, selfless martyr with a guilt complex? Because you've been running a little low on that these days. Are you sure that's not what you want me to become? That it's not your secret _fantasy_?" The last question practically dripped with disdain, and he took a step towards her, almost without realizing it. He felt his frustration trying to rear its ugly head, but this time, he pushed it down.

Again, the anger he expected her to show wasn't there. Instead… Was she _smiling?_ There was this imperceptible little curve to her mouth, as if she knew something he didn't. What the hell was she smiling about? How was she so calm about this?

With her next words, he found out why.

Elena looked up at him and said, plainly and simply as anything, as if it was the undeniable truth, "Of course that's not what I want. Because Damon… It wouldn't be you."

_It wouldn't be you._

Simple and innocent, those words. And yet, they stunned Damon Salvatore down to his very core. And just like that, all his sarcastic barriers came crashing down.

It wouldn't be him.

Almost as if he couldn't control his own mind, he stood there blinking at her, suddenly without the ability to remember how to form coherent words. Where had his sarcasm and wit gone now?

And then he was remembering, for the millionth time, that night three months ago; the "deathbead kissy thing," as he'd called it. There had been pain, sweat, weakness… and Elena. His memories were hazy, indistinct because of his delirium, but one of the things that he would never forget for his entire existence was what she'd said.

_I like you now._

_ Just the way you are._

Two sentences. Nine words. Priceless treasure… followed by a kiss.

_It wouldn't be you._

Four more words- but this time, this time he was fully conscious, completely awake, and the meaning behind them left him reeling.

She liked him how he was. She really didn't want him to change. Even after everything, all the things he'd done to hurt her, all the times he'd messed up, Elena still liked him. Cared for him.

Maybe even loved him.

God, he's spent his entire life waiting for someone who would care for him in all the right ways and for all the right reasons. Someone who would accept him.

And here was this human girl, Elena Gilbert, who was the doppelganger of the woman who'd chewed up his heart and spit it back out. This human girl, who had the ability to hit him with simple words that left him speechless, feeling like his un-beating heart was simultaneously being shattered and filled to the brim. It didn't make sense.

Then again, nothing made sense when it came to her.

When he still hadn't said anything ten seconds later, Elena filled the silence. "That's all I came here to say. You can go back to your drink now. Bye, Damon." And then she walked passed him, towards the front door.

He finally remembered how to move right when she was about to cross the threshold, and, using his vamp speed, he whooshed over to stand behind her. He had this uncontrollable urge inside, this _aching_, to just whirl her around and kiss her with everything he had inside of him.

But of course, he couldn't do that just yet.

Not completely trusting himself, he skimmed his fingers over her elbow with a feather-light touch. Surprised at how pained his voice sounded, he said quietly, "Elena. I…"

She turned around and looked up at him slowly, first at his lips- did she even realize she was doing that?- and then, to his eyes.

He tried to show her with his own gaze just how much her words meant to him, and he hoped it showed, because he didn't really know how to put it into coherent sentences. So he settled for the only thing he could give her right now, without overstepping the invisible lines between them.

"_Thank you_," he said softly, with all the sincerity he could muster. "And Elena…" He paused. Swallowed. "I'm… sorry."

He was sorrier than she'd ever know. For _so_ many things. She gave him a small, thin smile, and he thought she understood.

Quietly, she said back, "You're welcome." And, after holding his gaze for a moment, she turned around and walked out.

He could have called her back, but he didn't. He let her go and stood rooted to the spot inside his doorway as he did so, watching as she climbed into her car, pulled out of the driveway, and drove away until he could no longer see her anymore.

And then, strangely… Damon realized that his day felt… Well, just a little bit better.


End file.
